


Gold and Green

by Hedgehognotes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuties, Everyone Is Alive, F/M, OTP Feels, Stydia Month, Stydia Week, Teen Wolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:17:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8487298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hedgehognotes/pseuds/Hedgehognotes
Summary: When Lydia gets stood up at a local diner, a lanky dork by the name of Stiles rescues her. Curly fries and spilled sodas ensue.





	

Hey guys! This is my first story on ao3! Leave comments or suggestions if you wish. I'll make the next part longer, haha. Thanks for reading. :)

     Her eyes flicker back and forth between the clock and the door. Lydia runs her fingers through her hair nervously. Jackson should be here by now. The clock ticks tauntingly, unmoving. She tries not to notice as the waitress walks by her again, for the third time. A clean name tag with an engraved “Jess” dangles from the front of her t-shirt. She feels her heart drop to the pit of her stomach.  
     “Are you ready to order yet?” The “yet” is cold and punctuated, and the girl impatiently waits for her answer. Lydia doesn’t miss the pitiful looks people send in her direction. She flushes, and shifts around in her sticky red booth seat while smoothing out her crisp floral skirt. The restaurant is chilly, and despite her freezing hands and high-heel clad feet, she feels like she’s ready to combust. Prickling hot tears sting the corners of her eyes she blinks them away. She brushes a strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ears and purses her lipstick coated lips. She forces herself to look up at the waitress and swallows.  
      Her voice is chocked and wavering, contrasting her usual sarcastic, confident tone. “Sorry—I was actually just about to le--.” She’s cut off by an unfamiliar deep voice.  
     “So sorry I’m late babe. Traffic was gruesome.” A guy she’s never seen before slides into the booth across from her.  
     The waiter rolls her eyes—not so subtly before stalking away. Lydia makes a mental note not to tip her, and sighs in relief.  
     “I’m Stiles. The guy who didn’t show up is a douche. You’re beautiful. Just play along, ok?” And suddenly Lydia was alright with getting stood up. The cutest boy she’s ever seen is sitting across from her.  
     He’s gorgeous. He has luscious coffee brown hair, and golden maple syrup eyes that illuminated in the light. He’s sporting a flannel shirt, and drums his lanky fingers on the table rhythmically. He’s so different from the other guys she’s been with, he’s dorky and warm, and wonders why she hasn’t seen him before.  
She stares. Green eyes widen, before smoothly blurting, “What the hell is a Stiles?” And cringing as soon as soon as it comes out.His laughter bubbles out, a carefree, adorable sound, and he uses his knuckles to muffle the sound. He tilts his head down for a moment before meeting her eyes.His eyes are crinkled as gold meets green. They freeze and Lydia feels the world around them stop. His face becomes clearer, and she appreciates his smooth, upturned nose and curious mouth. Lydia can feel the cold walls disintegrate around her, and she’s ever been so comfortable around a stranger she’s never met.  
     She breaks away, clearing her throat, her face as pink as her lipstick. Stiles looks at her with an utterly spellbound expression, and Lydia has just enough time to admire the constellation of moles splashed upon his cheekbones.  
     Behind her, the waitress’ nasally voice interrupts. “Are you ready to order?” Lydia spins around, and smiles sweetly.  
     “Yes we are.”  
     When she comes back, two huge plates are balanced on her arms, and she quickly sets the table. Lydia’s salad is freshly tossed, and is set next to her with her sparkling water, but it can’t compare with Stiles’ burger and stacks of curly fries. When he turns around, she quickly grabs a fry from his plate, and bites into the crispy potato wedge. She moans, it’s delicious and she regrets getting a salad. Stiles turns around with an accusatory finger pointed at her, several curly fries dangling from her mouth.  
     “You’re lucky you’re so pretty.” He grumbles, and Lydia gives a small smile. The compliment sends makes her eyes shine. She spends the rest of the night stealing fries from a helpless Stiles.  
    It passes too quickly for Lydia’s taste. The guy, Stiles Stilinski, she learns, is hilarious. But she would never admit it. So she holds in all her laughter until she snorts, loudly and unattractively, and knocks over Stiles’ root beer in the process. She continues to guffawing, unable to stop, and she forgets what she’s laughing about. His chuckles join in with hers, and soon everyone that’s left in the restaurant stares at them.  
      The waitress glares at them unhappily as she wiping up the spill with cheap napkins. Lydia could care less. Before she knows it, they’re the only ones left, and she knows it’s late.  
Stiles must be thinking the same thing, because he wraps his fiery hands over her icy ones. Lydia melts.  
     “I had a lot of fun tonight.” He smiles, content and sincere.  
     Lydia grins wider than she has in a long time. “Same here. Thanks for saving me.” They share a laugh before parting. They exit the diner, with the warm summer night breeze blowing, and the streetlights and starts above them.  
    That night, as Lydia Martin rolls around in her queen sized bed, wrapped from head to toe in her blanket, she realizes that she forgot to get his number.


End file.
